The 28th Annual Hunger Games
by asugarcubeforfinnick
Summary: Welcome to the 28th Annual Hunger Games. SYOT open :D This SYOT WILL be finished no matter how long it takes :D Rated T for the a large chance of gore.
1. SYOT OPEN!

**Open SYOT! Hopefully this won't be all in code like last time :D Please send your forms via PM. I'll get back to you to let you know I've accepted it, or if that place is already taken! THANKS!**

 **Form:**

 **District:  
Name:  
Gender:  
Age:  
Appearance:  
Personality:  
Any Extra Facts (e.g. passions, interests, hobbies, favourite colours etc...)  
Family/Friends:  
Reaped/Volunteered:  
Relationship with Mentor:  
Training (where they go, who they stick with):  
Allies:  
Love interests:  
Score:  
What They Think of the Games:  
Interview (are they funny, comedic, romantic and flirty, tough?)  
Interview Outfit:  
Chariot Outfit:  
Games Plan:  
Bloodbath:  
Preferred Death (I'll probably pick the victor, so there's a slight chance you're tribute will not die. Please all that enter fill this out anyway or I'll think up something that will likely be quite plain!)**

 **THANKSSSSS!**

 **Taken Tributes (by me)**

 **D3 Male - Frankie Chance  
D5 Male - Wilfy Sealock**

 **Other than that, the rest are currently free.**


	2. District 1 Reapings: Jules Greenrock

I toss the javelin with as little effort as I can handle. It soars across the air and strikes the dummy's heart - a perfect shot. I smirk. I glance round to see if anyone had seen my achievement, although it's nothing out of the blue for me. Only Nolan saw me. He raises his eyebrows and approaches me. He studies my expressions as if trying to read my thoughts.

"What?" I snap, sounding more frustrated than I had meant to be.  
"Nothing," Nolan answers in a sing-song voice. I shove him playfully.  
"What do you want, mate?" I ask him again.  
"You're going to do it, aren't you?" Nolan questions me, ignoring my previous question. I can't tell if he is happy or unhappy with me. I nod briefly, and give him a look as if this is the most obvious question in the world.  
"Of course. Why do you think I would have trained for my life, if I wasn't to serve my purpose. What would be the point of all this?" I reply. I don't expect an answer, but I can that Nolan is looking thoughtful.  
"Honestly, Jules. I can't believe you're just going to flick away your life like a scab," he shakes his head and faces away from me in disgust. This statement takes me by surprise and I raise my eyebrow. "Nolan, I was made to do this. To bring a new pride to the district," I try to continue but Nolan interrupts me. "You're mad, Jules. If you even make it out of the Games you'll be haunted. You've seen what happens. It's horrific, it's terrifying. We've all seen it. The faces of the victors - ghostly-white and scarred for life. Even you can't take it," Nolan cooly explains. I scowl. "I _can_ take it. Who do you think I am, some sort of coward?" I snarl, feeling my anger rising.  
"I'm not trying to anger you, Jules. I'm giving you advice. Don't do it, mate. Think of your family, your friends." It surprises me that Nolan is so mild and softly spoken today, when usually he would be as mad as I would be in this situation. I look at my feet, feeling what can only be shame after shouting at him like that.  
"My family won't miss me," I say, my tone softening as I think "It's true."

It is true, my family won't miss me one bit. They don't care if I die or if I win, as long as they can boast that their son reached the arena. As long as I'm there.

I turn away from Nolan. I swiftly move toward the dummy and yank the javelin from the heart, reminding myself of my brilliant shot earlier. When I turn around, I see that Nolan is still there, but his attention is driven to something else in the arena. In an attempt to break back to our old, fun-loving selves, I raise the javelin jokingly into the air with one arm and pretend to toss it at him. This act moves his focus back to me. He laughs for a few moments before shrugging and sauntering off. I am still a bit upset with him for interfering, but he can take a joke unlike Abelone and Nathan, who are nowhere to be seen. I shove the javelin back in its place and take a break, before moving onto the next weapon. I spend the morning tossing javelins and throwing knives. I don't work with maces or swords because I know I'm weaker in those areas and although I won't admit it in front of people, I don't wanna be mocked. I refresh my mind on edible plants and nuts before leaving. Nolan must have left hours ago, because he is nowhere to be seen, which I tell myself is a good thing. He'll only nag me again.

I knock the door of my house, which my father opens for me. A wide grin spreads across his face as he recognises me. He takes my shoulders and asks me if I'm going for it. I nod. He punches me jokingly and says, "That's my boy." My mother reacts the same way. They're both fond of the Games, although I'm not sure why. We're not from The Capitol. I race up the stairs quicker than I had liked to as I am a little late home from training. I enter my room to find Don, my fourteen-year-old brother, Don, emptying my closest and dumping piles of clothes all over the floor. My face reddens. He hasn't noticed me. "DON," I boom, although not shouting. He slowly moves his head up to face me, fear flushing him all of a sudden. I point at the door, gritting my teeth and telling myself not to blow off for the second time that morning. "Out..." is all I can muster in a hushed voice. He lets out a little squeal and scampers from the room. On the way out, I clip his ear. I won't miss him, the rotten little troublemaker. I scoop up piles of clothes and pile them on my bed. I don't have time to put them all away now, before the Reaping. I grab a suit which has not been crumpled, thanks to Don. It's grey and a little bland, but it will do. I pull it on and smarten myself up. I comb my black hair but it's barely worth doing so. My hair is thick and doesn't seem to stay smart and tidy for a long time.

I leave the room to find Don walking down the stairs. He sees me, lets out a small noise and hurtles down at a faster rate. I grin. It's fun messing with people like this. They should be scared of me.

We head to the Justice Building. I'm certain the escort is new this year, but she's still as hideous as they all are. Unnatural colours and their faces so overdone in makeup and blush that their cheeks are puffy and look more like a doll than anything. The escort lets out a happy sort of tune when she sees us all filing in, as if she's excited to be here on a such day. Although being in D1 where most of us are eligible to enter the Games are pre-trained and prepared, there is still an uneasy vibe that looms on Reaping Day. We are on time, and not long after we find our places, the escort is bouncing about frantically on the stage and waving her hands like crazy. Why wouldn't she be thrilled? She's from the Capitol after all. The Capitol, where the Games are treated like a festivity. Not for me, it's just another sporting event in my eyes. The escort taps the microphone, sending our attention toward the stage. I bite my lip.  
"Welcome, welcome!" The escort chirps in a horrid sing-song voice I can't stand. "To the 28th Annual Hunger Games!" She claps expecting a chorus of applause to follow. It doesn't. She giggles in obvious embarrassment and continues to speak. "Like always, ladies first!"

I look around the square briefly, wondering who's name will be called and who will then volunteer. "CASHMERE BELLCREEK!" the escort beams. I hold my breath because by now there should have been a volunteer. A volunteer that would save this girl's life. I wait for the eager hands to raise. Perhaps they are just waiting. There is an awkward wait. The girl, Cashmere, does not step forward as she is probably waiting for someone to volunteer. No one does. I bite hard on my lip, watching tensely as she steps forward. I can see now that she is a rich girl, as her outfit is expensive and her hair is done up. I can see her face, which has gone a little pale, but she seems certain to keep a straight face. The escort takes her by the shoulders and walks her to the centre of the stage. "Any volunteers?" the escort asks, looking uncomfortable. Silence. "Anyone?" she asks desperately again. The silence continues. The girl's face is ghost-white as it appears to sink in. The escort shakes her head and coughs a little to break the silence. "Our female tribute...Cashmere Bellcreek," She declares with little expression. The audiences applauses, but clearly disgusted that a small girl is being sent in without any volunteers. She must only be thirteen?

Conflicting emotions cross my mind. Do I still volunteer? Of course, it's my last eligible year. But I will have this girl beside me? She can't be a Career. But I can't kill her either. Not my District partner. She won't make it past the bloodbath. If she does, I'll make sure someone else gets to her first. She must only be thirteen, why are there no volunteers? My thoughts are interrupted when the escort is drawing the male's name. I make up my mind before I can think twice. The first vowel of the boy's name is called, before I raise my arm and volunteer. A relief crosses the escort's face, glad that at least one person has the "spirit of the Games". The escort smiles her scary grin and beckons me up onto the stage. There are no other volunteers that were quick enough to beat me. I feel excellent as I swagger toward the stage and climb the steps, because in the corner of my eye I can see the scowling faces of volunteers who weren't quick enough. Hah.

I join Cashmere on the stage. She looks up at me in a way I can barely describe. I can't tell if she's asking me for help, begging me not to kill her the second we get into the Games. I shake her hand and nod supportingly. I won't let her die without putting up a fight, that's for sure. But I also won't overreact making me vulnerable. I just hope she won't make it past the bloodbath, so that I can forget her and carry on. I wave to the crowd, not looking at her again. I grin at Nolan, who I can spot at the edge of the crowd with the others, Nathan and Abalone. I don't care much for Nathan or Abalone. They were like sheep following the shepherd which was obviously me. This provokes my thoughts again. Who will be leader in the Games? I cross my fingers and hope it will be me.

Because I _know_ I'm the strongest. And if anyone thinks against me, I say _**come at me, and let the 28th Annual Hunger Games begin...**_


	3. District 1 Reapings: Cashmere Bellcreek

**District 1 - Cashmere Bellcreek POV (14)**

 **Also, just a notice, this SYOT will include a lot of quotes from the books and movies, so be warned!**

 **This should never have happened. I shouldn't be here, sat on the train right now. This wasn't meant to happen. It's never happened before...**

When I wake up, I roll onto my side to face the window. Through my blurry eyes I can see the window, and the curtains moving faintly in the breeze. I can hear birds cheeping through my fuzzy ears and I can see that light is shining into the room and onto my face, warming my cheeks. My eyes flutter as I try to decide whether to go back to sleep or get up, but when I snap back into reality, I bolt upright, all the sleepiness suddenly drained from me. I am late. I always wake up before the birds start singing. I must be extremely late if the birds are singing on _Reaping Day_ and I'm _still_ not up. I shove the covers over me and hurry over to my mirror. I gag as I see the state of my hair. It's messed up and I look like I've lived in a bush my entire life. I comb my hair until it's fairly alright - I can fuss later. I wash my face with cold water, and apply some lipstick. I am about to leave when I remember I still haven't made my bed. It makes me cringe, how messy my room is, but that's the last of my problems.

I arrive downstairs, my mother and father sitting at the table, coffee cups in hands, discussing something. They stare at me blankly when I burst in at such a pace that they are taken aback. "Mera?" my mother asks me quietly "Are you alright dear?" I don't answer. My eyes are wide and blinking fast.  
"Huh? Why are you still in your pajamas? Aren't I late? Aren't you going to scold me?" I ask, nervously. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I made a mistake. My father snorts with laughter, but not in a horrid way. "Dear, it's only early morning," he tells me. My stomach drops to the ground with relief and embarrassment. "Oh...I thought I was late. I was certain I had overslept," I say. My mother gets up from her seat and hugs me. "Mera, I know you're scared. We all are," My mother soothes me. Scared? We're in D1.  
"But Mum, we're in District 1," I remind her.  
"I know, but look outside. It's scarce of people," she points out of the window. The curtains are pulled back and I approach it and look out. She's right. I can't see anyone but a boy in training gear, obviously going to the academy. I don't attend the academy. My parents dislike the Games as much as I do. It's not right. It's not right at all, the Games. We didn't have to apply for training for me, because there's enough volunteers to take my place if I'm ever Reaped.

My mother makes me eat breakfast. I'm hungry and I eat a few slices of toast, but I refuse the bacon. I don't want to gain weight do I? Most people in D1 want to be in the Games, I want to be a fashion model. I then head upstairs and dress. I wear a cashmere dress, just like my name. When I go downstairs, my mother does my hair up in one thick, long braid running down my back. She fits flowers in all down it and it looks wonderful. The flowers are homegrown in our little meadow that we own and no one is allowed in there but us. The flowers are beautiful and made up of blues and white and the centres are pink. I apply some eyeliner and blush and I look dazzling. I look as radiant as the sun.

I spend the morning out in the meadow. I sit leaning against the house wall, making daisy chain necklaces and bracelets. I find a few other flowers to use too, and before long I have a little collection going. I have to stop making them as so I don't use up all of the flowers in the meadow. I do some drawing too. I lean my book on my lap and draw us. All three of us, sitting on a swing, in the meadow. Peaceful. Without the worry of the Games or the Capitol. All the time I draw it, I feel blessed to have had the childhood I've had. Spoilt, I suppose, but I have loving parents and beautiful clothes and a meadow for me and no one else. Whilst I'm finishing off the background, father sits beside me. He kisses my forehead and tells me everything is going to be okay. He also tells me he will frame the picture and we will build a swing in the meadow for the summer.

Soon, we are off to the Reaping. I hold onto my mother and father's protective hands. Their warm and firm grip makes me feel safe. **Of course I wouldn't be, though.** We are shuffled into the square, toward the Justice Building. We are a little late but we still get inside. The escort bounces onto the stage, dressed up in a mixture of vibrant colours. I examine her fashion choices and decide I don't particularly like it. Some Capitol fashions are nice, others, like this one, are not. I glance around the square in search of my mother and father but I can't find them. I tell myself it won't be long before I will see them again and we will be at home, building swings together and..

 _ **"Cashmere Bellcreek!"**_

My mind is no longer focusing on swing-building and drawing pictures. My mind is no longer in my happy place. My name has been called. I wait. I wait for someone to save me and relieve me from this. Silence. The silence continues and it's getting awkward. No one volunteers. The escort goes to call my name again, but I've already started making my way forward. I can hear a gasp from the crowd, like I see they always do in outsider districts when a little kid is called. But this isn't an outsider district. This is D1, and this is not meant to happen.

I look up at the escort fearfully as she looks me up and down. She looks fairly uncomfortable. Unpleased. She takes my shoulders and marches me towards the centre of the stage. I scan the crowd in search of my father. I can see him at the back. His face is pale and he's trying to hold back tears. He wipes his face with his hand. He'll be nothing without me. I don't have any siblings.

The boy is called. I only hear the first sound of his name when a volunteer emerges from the crowd. His hand raises at the same time as about three other boys, but his voice is heard first. "I volunteer!" his tone is strong and confident, unlike mine. He is beckoned onto the stage and I can see him clearly now as he saunters forward. His hair is dark and looks like it hasn't been brushed. He is muscular and tall and definitely a Career. Will he protect me? Should I feel frightened of him? I don't know. He nods at me when he arrives on the stage and shakes my hand. I look up at him in fear. He nods again. Is he trying to tell me he's here with me? Or is he trying to intimidate me? I think his intention was to support me but I can't be sure. We are shuffled into the Justice Building, and my thoughts are still baffled.

Why didn't anyone volunteer for me? They usually would. Have I done something? I can't have. **I just don't get it.**


	4. SYOT NOW CLOSED!

**Hi all!**

The SYOT submissions are now closed. The last one was reserved and sent in today. I am sorry that it is taking so long for the D2 Reapings, but Jason's Reaping will follow shortly after this submission. I have a range of tributes that are sure to other a mix of feelings, emotions and generally make these Games a bit of a rollercoaster. I have chosen the victor - I won't say who, but I've made sure it will be one that comes across well (not someone everyone will hate and dislike). I know it will be difficult to write these up, as I know I'll get attached to these characters!

Anyway, thank you so much all that submitted, and of course anyone who is following this fiction. I am working very hard planning everything out and I can't wait to show my work.

-asugarcubeforfinnick :3


	5. District 2 Reapings: Jason Mason

**District 2: Jason Mason (18) POV**

I can imagine it now. Myself, sat on a metaphoric tower of cash, stacked in every corner of my room, dressed in gold and jewels that no one else can afford. As soon as this dreamy thought crosses my mind, it's as if something hits me in the stomach and I try to wash that awful, selfish idea from my head. I feel terrible, thinking about myself all the time. Of course, I will end up like that. Because I am going into the Games and I know I can do it. I'll be as rich as ever once I come home. I have already chosen what I will use it on - funds to rebuild the torn-down training centre nearby. Food and drink and shelter for the poorer, and of course, a little bit for me. I don't need that much. I'm satisfied with what I have. The only thing I'm thirsty for is the honour of winning.

I have trained my entire life. I may only be eighteen, but I'm one of the strongest guys I know. You wouldn't think that if you looked at me. I'm lanky and tall and skinny for a Career. That's why they say you should never judge a Career like me. I'm made of more than what it seems. I am practically invincible. I can take down a tough, muscular guy with a bow and arrows. You can't judge a book by it's cover. That's my motto. Because I don't consider myself your average Career. Yes, I've trained throughout my childhood, yes, I know what I'm doing. But I'm not bloodthirsty. I don't think it's a huge deal, but I don't despise them. I guess it's my parents' bloodthirsty point of view that made me this way. I'm not supposed to go round saying I dislike the Games, because D2 is the closest to the Capitol and we're supposed to like everything the Capitol does.

I am sent to the training centre on Reaping morning, today. I'm not overly happy because I wanted to walk in the woods. But my father had other thoughts. Told me I've got to fit in any extra preparation I can. It'll help, he said. This morning is misty and damp. It's not raining but the air feels moist. It would have been perfect to go walking in the forest. And if I had stayed at home, no one would've been there. Too wrapped up in their own silly lives. Desperate for me to do what they never achieved - to be a tribute. Or should I say victor. I am carefree. I don't like anyone local, so I'm a lone wolf. All the kids at training are after me as a friend, but I don't accept it well. I don't wanna lie. Lying isn't a part of me, I say it how it is. I'll be with the Careers in the Games though. I touch on spear-throwing but it's not my strong point. I'm good enough that it could win me a kill in the Games. I don't know how to feel about this thought. I will not be one of those gruesome ones that goes about killing and spearing and slashing each tribute I see. I won't go round starting fights. I'll kill if it is necessary. I'm Career, of course I will.

I manage to get to the woods. Father is out at work in the market and mother is busy working at home. No one will know I'm out. I kick leaves and gaze about as I make my way at a snail's pace through the woods. The ground is moist and the air is damp and mist lurks about. I love it. I can only hope that the Games will be in a forest. I listen closely to the sounds of the nature - the birds tweeting and flapping about wildly in the trees, the wild animals scrunching about through the leaves, the whirling of the wind.

When I arrive home, my mother has prepared a feast for me for lunch. I'm not surprised. A feast is not uncommon here, but I usually don't eat a lot. That's why I'm so thin, because I don't over-eat. We have always had it easy. Father does so well in what he does we don't need to worry about getting food on the table. We have enough to feed a whole town in District 12. It makes me feel a little uneasy sometimes, to think that we have so much more, but then I remember that father worked hard for it and it makes me feel a bit better.

When I arrive home, I don't realise that I have leaves in my hair and mud up my arms. My mother prances down the doorway to meet me, the light bouncing from her eyes. That joy disappears when she notices the state of me, which I myself have not realised yet. "Jason...are you okay?" She asks slowly. I crease my eyebrows. "What do you mean? I've..." I run my hand through my reddish-brown hair, and that's when I stumble upon one of the leaves there. I pull it from my hair. "Jason Dominic Mason, have you been in the woods when you were strictly told to stay at the academy?" Her voice is stern and when she uses my full name like that I know I'm in trouble. "No..." I begin. I can work my way out of this, I'm good with my words. "No, no, I haven't. I got into a scrap with some bulky guy outside the arena. He...he pulled me to the ground and I kicked him and sent him spiralling down the hill," I pause, and smile innocently. My mother nods. "That's my boy. You'll be like that in the arena, right? Show em' what you're made of, Jason," she takes my hand and leads me into the dining room. She points at the feast set out in front of my eyes.

"Is this for me?" I ask. She nods again. I nod back. I take a seat and pile a few chicken drumsticks on my plate and some hot sauce. My mother frowns and sticks a finger at the bowl of rocket and salad. "Eat your vegetables. You need the vitamins for the Games," she insists. I raise my eyebrows and load some rocket onto my plate. I find myself picking at it. Eventually I result to throwing it back in the bowl when my mother isn't looking. I dress for the Reaping. We're early but I want to be ready. I wear a suit that doesn't really suit me much but it looks smart and my mother loves it so I wear it, because I want to please her. That's what it all comes down to really. Wanting to please her. If I win, I'll make sure my life doesn't resolve around her.

We go to the Reaping. I'm happy to get away from them, because they're constantly waffling about how proud they are, how I must gain as many sponsors as possible, how they know I can win. It doesn't help me. I don't feel nervous though. Because I know I am prepared. Our escort is a moody old cow with a gothic sense of fashion that looks a little better than that of other districts. She doesn't look happy to be here, which puzzles me as D2 is about as best as a district can get. She shuffles towards the audience and taps the microphone. "Hello?" She speaks into it unsure. "Is this darn thing on?"

The crowd nod as one. She looks relieved. "Now, I want to get this over and done with now, so let us begin!" She speaks out in what must be the most impatient attempt to be chirpy as I can imagine. She dips her hand into the bowl of females. "Our female tribute is...Bianka..." The escort begins before she is interrupted by a hand shooting into the air. Whoever Bianka was is now safe. "I volunteer!" the voice calls "I volunteer as tribute!" She cries. She hurries forward as if in a rush. She comes up the stairs and stands on the stage, looking like she's forced to be happy. The escort asks for her name.  
"Alissa Davies," She replies. Her voice is soft and sweet and un-Career-like. She seems nice enough but that's not the deal in the Games. Nice people are the weakest.  
The boy's name is called. "The male tribute is...Callam..." My hand raises with no hesitation. I volunteer at the same time as another boy. The escort looks flushed and asks us both for our names. His name is Toby Perkins. I say mine. Our names are written on to four slips each and the escort picks on at random. I hold my breath, terrified because this is my last chance to volunteer. I feel my hands wobbling slightly and try to hide it.  
"Jason Mason," the escort finally announces. I feel a flush of relief.  
I step forward and go up the stairs guarded by Peacekeepers. I stand beside Alissa. She looks at me for a split-second and licks her lips, a playful expression across her face. She laughs as she turns away. I can't help grinning. She'll be fun, I can tell already.  
"Our tributes of District Two...ALISSA DAVIES AND JASON MASON!" The escort declares.

We shake hands and Alissa seems to want more. As we turn away from the crowd, Alissa prods me. I face her and ask her what she wants. "Allies?" she asks hopefully. I nod "Allies...we're Careers right? That's what Careers do," I remind her. She looks thankful as her round eyes look up into mine. She looks younger than she is. She must be about my age if she volunteered. "Thank you," she whispers as we separate.

A sudden urge inside of me suggests it's my duty to protect her. And I will.


	6. District 2 Reapings: Alissa Davies

**District Two: Alissa Davies (18) POV**

 **I never really took the time to think about why I'm doing this. I never really stopped, thought a bit and wondered why I'm here. What my purpose is. I'm like a sheep following the shepherd. I follow the rest. I'm doing what everyone else does. I'm one of a crowd.**

The Games have always been supported in this District. We, as D2, are the closest to The Capitol. The Capitol likes us more because we're loyal and don't want a rebellion like everyone else. We just want peace, and we understand the only way that's going to happen is if we keep quiet and accept Capitol ways, like it or not. For me, I don't particularly like it. I think it's a foul and rotten idea, killing off your own population for the enjoyment of others, but I'd never admit it. I've been to the academy since I was five, I've been shaped to think like everyone else. Kill or be killed. I don't get a say in it.

On Reaping Day, I get a choice of what I want to do. I usually gets bossed about and sent to the academy. My father is a Peacekeeper, so of course, he is a supporter of the Capitol, and wants me to be a part of it. He is full-of-himself and looks down on me in a wicked way. It angers me, because I've trained more than he has ever dreamed of. I don't look eighteen, I look fifteen if that. I am muscular and tall and my hair lies down my back in a kinda scruffy yet badass braid. No flowers, no decorations, just a play rubber band or two keep it up. I don't wanna look weak, but people guess I am because I "look pretty" and "pretty girls shouldn't fight". I hate it when they say that because it's sexist and not true. I want to prove that a girl can be as good a Career as a boy.

I stay inside on Reaping morning because it's murky and gloomy outside, and no one is about. I don't like days like that. Although no one needs to worry on Reaping Day, there's still a strange feeling of suspense and it makes me nervous. I spend the day at my kitchen table, drawing. I draw birds flying, a family walking through a meadow, me and my brother, the woods, and everything else. I sing whilst I do so. When I sing I feel safe, it makes me happiest. I sing well-known songs I used to enjoy with my father before he became a Peackeeper. Ever since he got promoted, he has carried the opinion that singing is for the weakest, which hurts me because I know I'm not weak. A Career is never weak.

My mother comes in from the market and turns her noise in disgust at me. I was in the middle of a song and I stop immediately when I hear the door click open. "Alissa?" She barks in her high-pitched, snobby tone "Alissa, where are you?"  
"Here," I sigh. My peace has been interrupted. She scurries in and puts her hands on her hips.  
"What is this mess?" She asks rudely "Clean it up now!"  
I get up without question. It's better to just get on with her tiring orders, I stack the paper in one pile and collect my crayons. I tip them back in the box and carry all of my supplies upstairs. I feel sad. A sadness that follows me where I go. **Perhaps this is what made me how I am.**

I dress for the Reaping. I remember something. My brother has been quiet all day. I tiptoe into his room and peek in. Victor is not there. I roll my eyes - he must be out troublemaking again. I look out of his window and see him outside our house, fighting sticks with a boy his age. The sort of thing Victor would usually do. As I'm watching them, I see my mother come out from inside and towards them. I know what's coming. She crouches beside him and smiles and asks him something. He grumbles and stamps his foot and passes the stick over to her. The other boy turns and makes a run for it. My mother scoops Victor up and into the air and kisses his head. The sadness hits me again harder than ever because I know she likes him better. Once he drew up my walls and my mother complimented him for being creative, and made me clean it up.

We go to the Reaping. I try to take Victor's hand but he hits me and squirms away. I get told off again. I am more than happy to separate from my mother and Victor when we get into the Square. Father, being a Peacekeeper, is at work guarding us all from harm. Good. He would only make a complaint over what I'm wearing and fuss Victor just like mother. The girl's name is called. I am a bit of a rough mood after being treated like that, but I try to think of the good aspects of the Games. The hot dude I'll probably be paired up with, the prize and honour of winning, the Capitol food. The food here is good, but Capitol food is beyond delicious, so they say. I feel a little better when I think of the muscular guy that should volunteer with me. I catch the girl's name but no one will ever know who it was that got chosen, because I volunteered before her surname was called. Before anyone could volunteer before me. The anxiety in my stomach is not present. I can forget everything about my District now, I can focus all of the attention on what's in front of me. Because when I return I'll be living in the Victor's Village away from my family and Victor. Hopefully with a new boyfriend that was a previous victor. I'll be a star.

I pace forward as if I am hyped. I'm excited, though. I take my place on the stage and smile at the crowd. I don't twirl my hair or curtsey or anything too girly because I don't wanna look like a baby that's only volunteering for the heck of it. I'm a Career and I won't go down without the crowd knowing that. The guy that volunteers has a ridiculous name that makes me struggle not to laugh out loud - Jason Mason. He's good-looking, fit yet not too muscular and has the most beautiful shade of orangery-brown hair. When he joins me on the stage and smile at him innocently. I try to get in with him straight away. "Allies?" I ask. He nods and agrees. He seems nice enough. Hopefully he won't be one of the horrible Careers you see on TV that boss the rest of us around and holler and shout like an ape. He doesn't seem like that sort of person. **They say there's no point in love when you're in The Hunger Games, but I can't help myself admiring Jason.**

We separate and go into the Justice Building.


End file.
